Prosecution
Office of Autobot Leader(#387RntN) This room is in transition right now. Assorted relics and artifacts collected by previous Autobot leaders fill a shelf on the southern wall. A large desk is empty, with various cartons marked 'Archives' lined on the wall behind it. Partially visible behind the cartons is the insignia of the Autobots. A large window makes up the western wall, giving a spectacular view of the valley beyond. Contents: Kup's Stool(#7223) Obvious exits: Door leads to Main Lobby - Second Floor. Crosshairs is not IC. You send a radio message to Crosshairs: Crosshairs? This is Rodimus Prime. Could you meet me in my office, please? Upper floor of Metroplex, western wing. You receive a radio message from Crosshairs: *pauses for a moment* That depends. Is it a request, or is it an order? Sir? You send a radio message to Crosshairs: If you're telling me that you wouldn't show up for a request, then it's an order. You receive a radio message from Crosshairs: All right, then. Puts it in perspective. Be right there. Crosshairs enters from the Main Lobby - Second Floor to the east. Crosshairs has arrived. Rodimus Prime has a desk. He's sitting at it, apparently reading something on a flat moinitor that's built into said desk. In addition to Kup's stool, there are several other comfortable chairs of assorted size arranged opposite the desk, some designed to accomodate the more common sizes of Autobots, some to accomodate humans and human-sized guests. Pinpointer ejects from Crosshair's turret mount as the Autobot's vehicle form spins sideways as though in an involuntary roll. But it is not a crash as his legs unfold from beneath the vehicle and his arms emerge. As his head pops into position, Pinpointer is caught in Crosshairs' waiting right arm. The Autobot targetmaster duo are now in Robot mode! Crosshairs enters with a fairly brisk pace. He does show up promptly when he says he will at the very least. Moving right along for an old 'bot, he manuvers himself up to the desk and salutes. "Reporting as ordered." He says. Pinpointer is, for the moment, nowhere to be found but that can be rectified quickly. "What can I do for you, Sir?" Rodimus Prime blinks at Crosshairs for a moment before he remembers to return the salute, giving the strong impression that he hadn't expected to be saluted at all. He gestures towards the seats on the other side of the desk. He gives Crosshairs a smile that's a touch sad and a touch grim. "Reporting as ordered? Then I'm to take it that you /wouldn't/ have shown up for a request?" That faint smile turns to a look of genuine concern and the Prime leans forward. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Crosshairs remains standing for a few more seconds as he considers how to reply to the other. "To be honest?" He asks. "No. No, I wouldn't have." The old 'bot leans himself into the seat and sits, though there is something in his bearing that says discomfort. "Haven't really found my feet here, yet. Bots don't know how to react to me, I don't know how to react to many of those around me. Some don't care, some treat me as a pariah . . it's confusing, and it's hard on the circuits. It'll all come right in time, but respectfully, if it were a social call, I'd have turned it down. This'd all be a grade alpha omega headache anyway, but combine it with sharing my head with someone else and it's all the worse." He pauses, then adds. "Sir." Another pause. "I'm fit enough for duty, don't get me wrong. Just trying to make the best of my off hours." Rodimus Prime seems to seriously consider Crosshair's answer for a moment. Finally, he smiles, still subtle but stronger and less sad than before, and gives one nod of his head. "Fair enough, then," he says, settling back into his own seat. As he does, he taps on a few buttons on the desk in front of him. "You'll be interested to know that you have now been officially and completely pardoned." Of course, there's a catch. Oooooh boy, is there a catch. Crosshairs is watching Rodimus Prime's face as he speaks. Just as the Commander is attempting to get the measure of Crosshairs, so it works in reverse. "Don't mind me to much." He says, before considering any other words to follow. "Never was the most outgoin'. Used to find my alone time in my own head . . except it doesn't really work that way now." A half smile as he leans forwards and then he stares at Rodimus as what he says clicks. "Excuse me?" He asks. "Well, before I get uppity either way and burn an old connection . . . *I* am pardoned or the entire crew and *Fort Max* are pardoned?" "You're pardoned," the Prime says, tone now back around to completely serious. Granted, part of that's because the others don't have players, but that's neither here nor there. *Cough Cough.* Rodimus then falls silent and studies Crosshairs, waiting to examine his reaction, his own expression carefully neutral. Crosshairs frowns a little bit more as he regards Rodimus Prime in silence, his arms crossed. Conflicting emotions cross the old bot's face once more, though they seem more on the edge of negative than anything else. Finally after a good minute, he shakes his head. "Respectfully sir, No. I cannot accept. Despite my feelings on the matter, which are typically supreme regret, the Steelhaven crew did what was done as a crew. It is the honest thing, and the Autobot thing, Sir, to either pardon all of us, or pardon none of us." Rodimus Prime seems to, once more, consider Crosshair's answer, though this time the moment doesn't end with a smile. "Very well, then," Rodimus answers, sighing and tapping out something else. "None it is. Pity, that - we certainly could have used the Steelhaveners' assistance in the war efforts." The Prime seems rather saddened, perhaps a bit melancholy over Crosshair's response. Crosshairs peers at Rodimus for a moment. "Now, wait here a minute." He says, seemingly a bit confused. "Back in the day, Primes made /sense/ damn it. Well, most of the time. Might have been a blithering idiot when it came to everything else, but at least none of this speaking in riddles mess." He is sitting on the edge of his chair, on the point of standing up. "I fail to understand how my rejecting a pardon that was delivered solely to me means that . . . " He frowns more. "Why offer it to simply me, anyway?" "Why?" Rodimus asks as he leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk and clasping his hands in front of him. His expression is simultaniously sad and severe. "Because this was a test, and you've failed. I needed to asertain that your loyalty was to the Autobots /as a whole/ first, not just to the Steelhavens, not to Fortress Maximus." He shrugs and looks down at the screen. "I suppose I'll try again with one or two others... make sure you're not just an isolated case." So now that Crosshairs has rejected the offer, he intends to toy with the emotions of Crosshairs' shipmates? Ooooh, lovely. Crosshairs gets a veritable twitch beneath his optic, but it dissapears almost instantly. He then asks a simple question. It's delivered in a perfectly neutral tone. "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" he wants to know. No hint of what he might be thinking beyond that twitch. Rodimus Prime's answer is one word, his tone and expression unreadable. "Go." Crosshairs stands up and uncrosses his arms, gesturing outwards. "In for a penny, in for a pound." He says, flatly. "This isn't about loyalty to the Autobots, or to the Steelhaven crew -- who are, I might point out, still Autobots until proven otherwise. I thought that is what this trial is all about. But." He leans forwards over Rodimus' desk, eye to eye with the other. Not in a threatning way, more in a 'make myself clear' sort of way. "The Autobot thing to do isn't to take the easy way out, Rodimus. You ought to know that, and be ashamed of yourself for saying otherwise. It wouldn't be very Autobot of me to accept a pardon I don't deserve, and leave /ANYONE/ not to mention my friends, or comrades or whatever you want to call it out to dry. It just isn't right, and you ought to know that." He gestures towards the table. "If yourself, Ultra Magnus, Arcee, Springer and the lot of you were accused of treason and you were offered a pardon . . . you wouldn't take it either, I'd hope. Because it's just not the right thing to do. Sir. It's not a question of loyalty, it just isn't the right thing to do." A final pause, and he gestures. "Look me in the face and tell me it'd be the Autobot thing to do to leave everyone else out to hang and take a pardon I did nothing for. Please." Rodimus Prime looks up at Crosshairs, looks him in the face, expression still unreadable. The words that come out of his mouth, words soft but certain, tone firm and steady, are not the ones Crosshairs requested at all. "I never said your path would have been the easy way out. There were other requirements to be put on you." Crosshairs stil does not sit down, his hands on the edge of the desk; weight leaning into it. "Then you ought to have said that. What did, or what do you intend then?" A one sentence response in coupulation with the length of speech a moment ago. "You said that you regret the choices you, as a group, made," Rodimus answers, not answering the question immediately and directly. Again. "Prove it. Prove to me that you really, truly understand what you put those whom you /abandoned/ through, that you can see things from /their/ perspective." Uh-oh... Crosshairs slowly sits down, looking towards Rodimus for a moment. "Let's do each other a favor." He proposes. "I'll stop being a crusty old coot and listen to what you say at face value. You cut the chase and tell me exactly what you're thinking, and what you want of me, and we both stop beating around turbo-bushes and go from there." Rodimus Prime, of course, cannot comply completely. What he is thinking must, for the moment, remain private if there's any hope of navigating this minefield. So instead the Prime comes as close as he dares, for the moment. "I have a trial coming up. I have no prosecutor. Given the situation, the number available even qualified to serve as a prosecutor are next to nil. I need someone who was there. Who knew what happened, who knew what decisions were being made, but at the same time can approach it from the understanding of those who /weren't/ there. Of course, the prosecutor cannot himself be on trial, but on the other hand, with no prosecutor, there is no trial." And that's true enough, and Rodimus's tone and expression seem to suggest that it's all, but oh, he is deceiving. There is more, much more going on here, than meets the eye. Crosshairs is silent again. This time, it is one of those long, considering sorts of silences. "I think I know where you are going with this." He ventures, carefully. "Assuming I'm right, tell me why I would want to do it? Wouldn't that qualify as being even worse, taking the out and then sending those around me up the river instead of just watching them go? Or is there a mitigating circumstance?" "Like I said," Rodimus begins, tone still quiet, formal, and neutral - that alone would have tipped off any other Autobot that he's up to something, for his behavior is very atypical for him, but this Autobot doesn't know what Rodimus is normally like - "without a prosecutor, there is no trial, and this... is not a civilian court. You people are /not/ innocent until proven guilty in this situation. It's very much the opposite. The burden or proof is on your allies and their defender, and with no trial, there is no chance to make that proof." Crosshairs is silent yet again. This time, though, the hard edge on his face breaks completely and there is an edge of sadness there. "I see the point you are making." He concedes. "But, you realize what you are asking me? At the very least, I am someone of my word. And if I agreed to do what you ask, then I've promised to do my best. The problem is . . " He looks straight at Rodimus. "If I win, how am I supposed to live with myself?" For the briefest of moments, an instantaneous flicker, Rodimus Prime's studious neutrality cracks, and if Crosshairs is watching closely, he can catch a glimpse of the pained sympathy, genuine sorrow, and... fear? that lies beneath, and for that instant the Prime looks old, so much older than he has any right to look. But then, Crosshairs has no way of knowing just how painfully /young/ Hot Rod had been before the Matrix grabbed him, rewrote him, reformatted him, putting those false lines of age on his face, cutting his youth short to shoulder him with a burden far beyond that which most Autobots will ever have to deal with. Then, that eddy, that aberration has passed so fast that it could have been imagined, and Rodimus answers softly, voice not angry or accusing, but words as cruel as winter, "How /have/ you lived with it all this time? You've already /done/ the same thing." A pause, a beat, and then he continues. "But... even so, with a pardon, you will be a free Autobot. This means that there is nothing requiring you to share their fate... but nothing that prevents you, should you chose to do so." Crosshairs listens to this quietly, and nods here and there. He's old. He's been around a long time. He's made mistakes and he's had successes. "Because, Rodimus, it's easy to delude yourself when you are convinced that you are doing the right thing. It's an easy step to make. That somewhere, the fighting has to end, so let it start with one person, one crew. And it snowballs. The longer you are out there without anyone else around you; without seeing what harm you have caused, the easier it is to convince yourself that what has been done is not a mistake." "I had a long talk with Kup last night. We fought togeather in a few places, did you know? Listening to him talk, it was easy to see just how much of a mistake has been made. I ended up apologizing to him, for what waste of time it is. So, no. Really, Rodimus Prime, I haven't lived with it. I think all of us have lived with a delusion. Thought that maybe, war wasn't the right way. Kup's the last one that I knew who is still around. You have to wonder, if just for a nanosecond that it wasn't the right thing to do to look for peace at all costs." He studies his reflecton in the surface of the desk. "And here I am; here we are, back where we started. Nothing's changed, the lines are still drawn. I was old then, and I'm older now -- and what is there to show for tryig to get away from it? Nothing. Not a thing. Just a crippling injury and the loss of part of who I am. Makes someone feel . . I don't know if there is a word for it." He sinks back into his chair, wordless and silent for a minute. Then two minutes, then five minutes. "Did you know I knew Ironhide as well, in his younger days?" Five more minutes of silence. "I've no idea why I'm telling you any of this. Don't expect you to listen, don't expect that it matters. Except that this whole thing was a colosssal screw up in the worst way possible, and now you're asking me, for the one small chance of saving everyone, to likely send them to the stasis lockups?" Finally, after all of this introspection he looks towards the Autobot leader like he is going to give an answer. "The problem is, Rodimus, and what frightens me so much to accept this -- is that I don't see any other verdict but guilty." There is, once more, that flicker, that moment of wavering that can be so easily dismissed or overlooked, and then Rodimus tucks it away for a very faint but sad smile. "Then it's a good thing you're not the one serving as a judge." He pauses, then adds, "Or jury." In a court martial, the presence of a jury is not always the default state. "The prosecutor, at least for the duration that they're serving as prosecution, should actually believe what they're saying. Sounds like you've already got that part down." Crosshairs doesn't nod or show any applicable reaction to what Rodimus says. "They aern't horrible Autobots, you know. Despite what some people think about them. Most of them are as brave as any you'll ever meet." Another pause. "You realize that if you lock away the Steelhaven crew, you'll have to lock away their partners as well? The line where Cybertronian ends and Nebulan or otherwise begins is blurred in a way that is hard to describe unless you are similarialy affected. But no matter. I will do this thing you ask on two circumstances." He glances up at Rodimus. "The first is that you don't make the mistake of treating our partners are seperate entities. If you lock up one, you'd have to commit the other one to an asylum in most cases. Do not misunderstand this. If one is put away, the other has to be as well. Even if you could undo the procedure, in Pinpointer's own words it'd be like removing a sense. Vision or hearing or smell. The other thing..." Crosshairs rises, leaning over the desk again. "If any one the Steelhaven crew are punished and led away in chains, even if it is solely Fortress Maximus, you are to take me with them, or him. Do we have an agreement?" "You can rest assured, Crosshairs, the point concerning your Nebulan Autobot partners is well taken, and was already a consideration." He stands up as Crosshairs rises, hands resting lightly on the top of the desk. "As for the rest? If those are your terms, then yes, we have an agreement." It is at this point that the mask of neutrality slips back into Crosshairs' face. "If that is the case, then I'd best get an early rest cycle. If you are finished with me. Sir." Rodimus Prime gives a single, slow, and firm nod of his head. "Very well. I'm done with you." Crosshairs at this point, stands, and exits without another word. Man, that Rodimus Prime guy is an asshole! As soon as Crosshairs is gone and Rodimus is alone, the Prime slumps into his chair, his right arm propped on the table at the elbow so that his fist can support his forehead, the mask shattering to reveal an expression of sheer misery. The truth that he must keep to himself, secret from all, is that Rodimus Prime was never interested in a fair and unbiased trial. The general outcome has already been decided, with only a few niggling details to be worked out once he has the insight he so desperately hopes the trial will provide. But no, Rodimus Prime's interest is in the long term good of the Autobots, and this trial serves as a means of clearing the air, a way to provide needed closure so that the force can move on. But he only hopes to Primus that the others, especially Kup, will be able to bring themselves to forgive him for the understanded stunts he's been pulling to bring about that goal... ... Because he's not sure he'll be able to forgive himself.